


Yarmulkes and Genes

by AsterRoc



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsterRoc/pseuds/AsterRoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is during the blessing of the wine – this is Tony’s type of service – that he realizes the identity of one of the many men in black suits and conservative dark colored yarmulkes in the front line.  It’s probably the trim of red and purple around the edge of his yarmulke that gives it away, for Erik Lensherr is otherwise indistinguishable from the many other worshippers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yarmulkes and Genes

Every few years Tony picks a random religion and attends a service. He doesn’t actually believe in God or gods (well, other than the ones whose grudge match leveled a small New Mexican town and half of lower Manhattan, but they were aliens so they didn’t count), but he figures that it can’t hurt to hedge his bets. Especially now that he kinda does regret some of his actions in his youth. 

He slips in to the back of the congregation after the Havdalah has already begun, snagging one of the complimentary yarmulkes and managing to perch it precariously on his head. Most of the attendees are standing in a circle in the open space of the synagogue, but there’s more of a crowd nearer to the entrance, and Tony joins the back of these. It is during the blessing of the wine – this is Tony’s type of service – that he realizes the identity of one of the many men in black suits and conservative dark colored yarmulkes in the front line. It’s probably the trim of red and purple around the edge of his yarmulke that gives it away, for Erik Lensherr is otherwise indistinguishable from the many other worshippers. 

Tony starts to step backwards slowly, hoping to make an unobtrusive exit, but a little old lady a full head shorter than himself (not that he’s short, of course not, he’s all compact muscle) has managed to snag his arm while he wasn’t paying attention (and damn he hates strangers touching him, almost as much as he hates being handed things), and he realizes she’s been talking to him for a while without his noticing. Something about her goiter and her granddaughter who is still single at age 25, such a shame. She shows him a picture and when he expresses admiration of her brown curls spilling over her shoulders, the woman tells Tony she’d be glad to set him up, she’s been trying very hard to find her a nice Jewish boy to marry and he seems like he’d fit the bill nicely. Tony tells her he’s strictly secular and not at all observant and then shuts up for the remainder of the service. 

The woman holds Tony in place until the final wine is spilled, which for a moment he thinks is a shame, until he remembers the Passover he went to a few years back and how sickly sweet that wine had been, and barely containing any alcohol at all. He decides to slip out while the rest of the usual congregation (and Magneto, of course) gather around the food, manages to wrench his arm away from the little old lady’s grip (little old ladies and babies both have ridiculously strong grips), turns around and runs smack into the chest of one of the top super villains in the world. 

“Mr. Stark,” the other says mildly, inclining his head slightly. Ugh, of course Magneto would know Tony was there and seek him out. Probably could feel the metal in his chest as soon as he entered the building. 

Tony’s options flit through his head and are dismissed as quickly as they appear. Fleeing is pointless, as Magneto could stop him by grabbing onto his arc reactor. Or the shrapnel. And besides, doing something as overt as fleeing might trigger the other man into attacking the civilians. Tony could hit the panic button on his StarkPhone that would have Jarvis putting in a call to the Avengers and SHIELD and calling in a suit or six remotely, but again, _civilians_ , and right now Magneto isn’t doing anything in the slightest bit hostile. In fact, he had been polite and even used Tony’s “normal” name. Hm, maybe he can’t fight in a place of worship. No wait, that’s vampires. 

Well, whatever the reason, Magneto is being civil, and using his non-superhero name, so Tony will continue the trend and deescalate further still. All these thoughts pass through Tony’s head so quickly that he knows most people wouldn’t notice, but something must have leaked through to his face, for the taller man raises an eyebrow questioningly. 

Tony plasters onto his face the grin he usually reserves for the press corps, and extends a hand towards the other man. “Eric! Long time no see.” 

As they shake hands, the other leans in and whispers in his ear, “You know I prefer my other moniker from the likes of you, but I will overlook it this time due to the setting.” His handshake is firm and cool, not grinding or attempting to cause pain, not damp and nervous, simply a strong shake among individuals who respect each other. 

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Tony questions, sotto voce as well, hoping the others don’t catch on to their conversation topic. “You don’t strike me as the sort to repent, y’know what with how you keep…” He waves his free hand in the air to indicate Magneto’s more common activities, such as betraying allies, destroying landmarks, mass murder, those sorts of things. “You’re not the religious sort of person.” 

“No?” One eyebrow arches, and Magneto’s hand twitches slightly as he withdraws it from Tony’s grasp. If Tony hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought the twitch a tremble, a mark of weakness like other elderly men, but that is not the case with Magneto. It also was not the twitch of someone pulling their hand away from him quickly, Tony experiences those frequently as well, usually from people nervous at meeting the great Tony Stark. He glances down at Magneto’s hand where it is now slipped into a pocket on his jacket, the sleeves covering his arms. Come to think of it, Tony has never seen the other man’s arms uncovered. Not that that’s unusual, as armor is appropriate for all sorts of villainy, but still, Tony doesn’t know Magneto’s age for sure, but perhaps he could be old enough… 

“But, so, yeah,” Tony starts, incoherently as he often does, but then rolls on, “so if you prefer your other name, why’d you use mine?” By now the two men have drifted to the side of the room with the food, apparently both preferring to stay in the synagogue, on territory where they have yet to begin fighting each other. 

“Oh come now, _Tony_ ,” he says, putting a mocking emphasis on Tony’s first name in acknowledgement of his previous use of Magneto’s first name. “Surely you know where I stand on names.” 

Of course Tony did. He’d had Jarvis obtain the interrogation tapes of Raven Darkholme, aka Mystique, both before and after her temporary depowering. The BBW (Beautiful Blue Woman), as Tony usually referred to her, had expressed the sentiment that normal names were “slave names” given by the mere humans, while their super villain names were their “true” names. A sentiment that Magneto apparently shared. 

Still slightly confused though, Tony cocks his head. “And how does that apply to me?” 

One elegant gray eyebrow raises. “Surely you are no mutant, Mr. Stark. You must have been tested by now, and if positive for the X-gene you would have had more conversations with Charles by now.” Tony tucks away this particular use of a first name, a human name, for future reference and further examination. 

“Inconclusive,” Tony replies tersely, shrugging his shoulders. This time it is the older man who appears slightly confused. 

“But the test cannot come up inconclusive. Either you have the gene or you do not.” 

“And what about the epigenetics? Every mutant expresses his or her talent in a different way, with only the slightest trend in families, which could be due to environmental factors changing the expression of the X-gene. And I suspect that some of the apparent generational skips out there must be Binks.” Tony pauses to take a breath.

“Binks?” 

Rolling his eyes, Tony replies, “Yes, Binks. Does nobody in this city read anymore? Bink? As in _A Spell for Chameleon_ by Piers Anthony? You’d think he copied you mutants if he hadn’t started writing his series before you were all out and common knowledge. Everyone in his world had a magical power, each one different, except apparently Bink, who didn’t have any power. But then it turned out that he had a hidden talent, which was that he couldn’t be hurt by magic. Bink. People like him are Binks. There’s got to be some of them out there, people with the X-gene who don’t appear to have any power but just haven’t been in a situation for it to be obvious.” 

By this point Magneto is frowning as Tony’s voice rises and his arms gesture for emphasis, and he glances around to check if they’re drawing any attention. They’re not. 

“And if there’s Binks out there, there’s got to be other mutations too. The X-gene isn’t the only way for you folks to get mutations and powers you know, I mean just look at the Cap and Bruce, they got it through artificial means. Even on top of other natural mutations, there’s a lot of us with other powers that don’t come from the X-gene. So: inconclusive. If I have the X-gene, is that what makes me so smart and sexy, or are they due to something else and my X-gene is inactive? If I don’t have the X-gene, does that make me any less brilliant? Of course not.” 

Tony stops and folds his arms over his chest. Then he realizes his yarmulke is sliding forward due to his energetic speaking, and resists pushing it back into place, as that would ruin the dignity of his stance. Fuck dignity, it’s drooping into his eyes now. He unfolds his arms and replaces the yarmulke where it belongs. “How _do_ you keep it in place?” he asks while fussing with it. 

“Bobby pins,” Magneto answers dryly, and tips his head forward so Tony can see. He glances around at the other men and sees that they all have bobby pins as well, so it’s not just that Magneto can hold the metal in them into the right spot, normal people must be able to hold them in place. It probably just takes practice or a trick. Which, fuck it, Tony’s not going to get or figure out, because it’s not like he’s coming back to this synagogue again. Ever, since he knows Magneto attends it. This has been a total waste of time. He walks towards the doors of the synagogue, to the table where others whom have left already returned their borrowed yarmulkes. He expects Magneto to let him go, but surprisingly the older man walks alongside him towards the table. 

Or maybe this hasn’t been a total waste after all. Tony slaps the yarmulke against his hand and brushes off any stray hairs. “You know what, you should come by Stark Tower sometime, we can continue this conversation, test both our blood.” He glances up at the older man’s face to gauge his reaction. Surprise: both eyebrows raised and his lips in a slight moue. 

“You would let me that close to the main core of your AI? Considering what I was able to do with just its stripped down program in your suit last time, I am surprised.” 

Hm, well, maybe that wasn’t such a well thought out offer after all. “Hm, yeah, you’re right.” Jarvis really _had_ turned into an “it” after that encounter, but only after infecting all the local backups. He’d had to fly to Malibu on a commercial flight (shudder!) to pick up an uncorrupted backup to restore him. Tony had gladly left the mutants to the mutants after that. 

“You know what, I’ve got a warehouse in Minnesota somewhere,” Tony extemporizes as they leave the synagogue, walking down the few steps to the street level. “I’ll fit it out with a wet lab and a boxing ring, we can do some tests on the both of us, and go a few rounds in the ring. No suit for me, no powers for you. What do you say?” Tony slaps the back of his hand lightly against the other man’s arm. 

Magneto replies slowly and thoughtfully, “While I can refrain from using my more superior powers, some of them such as my strength and speed, I cannot so simply turn off.” 

“That’s okay big guy, I can’t turn off my brain. Or my sexy for that matter.” 

The other man scoffs. “One such as you does not interest me.” 

Tony grins a huge shit-eating grin and turns his whole body around to face Magneto. “Sure, you keep telling yourself that you don’t want a piece of this. We’ll see in the ring. I’ll have my people contact your people, and we’ll make a date, okay?” Tony points the index fingers of both his hands at where Magneto has stopped as he says this, walking backwards a few steps towards the limo waiting for him at the curb. 

Magneto lets a small smile grace his lips. “We shall see, Mr. – Iron Man.” 

Tony pumps his fist in a gesture of triumph. “Cha-ching!” he sing-songs as Happy opens the car door for him, and he ducks in, taking the scotch on the rocks that his friend and driver passes him as he does so. 

After Happy shuts Tony’s door, he watches Magneto through the tinted window for a moment. The gray-haired man removes the yarmulke from his head, folds it reverently, and places it in an inner jacket pocket. He then holds his right hand out to his side, and a dark metallic helmet sails into it from somewhere Tony had not noticed, and he places the helmet over his head. As Happy opens the driver’s door, Tony sees Magneto hold his hands out to his sides almost as though being crucified, and then he gently rises into the air, at first slowly, and then he rapidly shoots away. When Tony loses sight of him, craning his neck upwards through the window, he looks back to the other people on the sidewalk. None of them follow the mutant with their eyes; he must be a regular at this synagogue. 

It takes a few minutes however before Happy actually sticks his head into the vehicle, and he looks a little pale when he does so. “That was Magneto.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“He just flew away!”

“Yeah, I know.” Tony takes another sip of his drink. 

“You… you were talking to him?” Happy sounds incredulous. 

“Yeah, and now I needa renovate a warehouse so I can invite him over to play.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thought up the entirety of this fic while driving waaaay too much yesterday and today, then spent a couple hours this evening putting it down in words.


End file.
